45th day (Shvil Maturity)

And so there we were, getting out of the same car at the same place that we'd been 18 hours earlier. Yesterday was an easy stroll north, today a hard grunt south. With this in mind, we were out of the Midreshet Ben Gurion Hilton by 5.45 and had foot on desert sand by 6.00. Sunrise is at 6.15. Remember how you learned at school that the desert gets really cold at night? Well, 7th year geography teachers of the world weren't lying. The temperature was about 2 degrees. A cold wind was blowing, making it feel even colder. It was so cold that even the very steep climb that started the day off didn't really cause us to warm up. In fact the opposite is the case. The exertion made us sweat, which in turn, did exactly what nature meant it to do...cool us down. There were, however,  2 distractions from the cold.

The first was our cursing the conspiracy between the shvil elders and the writers of both shvil books. Over the past few legs we've tackled some BIG climbs and have dealt with them pretty well, partly because we'd psychologically prepared ourselves for the effort. We were given little warning as to the difficulty of the climb up Hod Akev, yet the three of us agreed that it was equally as hard as any ascent we'd done to date. Perhaps harder, or at least more technically difficult, having to haul ourselves up on to ledges, maneuver around tight corners with little foot hold or scamper up a long, very steep incline.  As difficult as the climb was, even I agreed that it was the sort of terrain that we would prefer to climb rather than descend. Remember, I usually prefer to let gravity help me get down a hill rather than fight it to get up the hill. It's one thing to lift yourself on to a ledge, but dropping from a ledge, where you have to lower yourself down without properly seeing the 10 centimetre spot where you have to put your feet, is much scarier.

The other distraction was, of course, the view. The higher we rose the more dramatic and broader the view became. And we rose pretty quickly. If on the previous day we had walked along the broad, flat basin of the Zin valley, surrounded by high ridges, now we were seeing this area from one of those high ridges and it was far more attractive. Having started so early, we were afforded the added bonus of being able to watch the colours change as the sun rose higher in the sky. These were all however only partial distractions, weighed against the cold, the wind, the physical exertion and the swearing at having to deal with it all at 6.00 a.m.
Before starting the climb we noticed a sign pointing towards the oasis at Ein Akev. We knew that further along the shvil yisrael trail, we would get to Ein Akev.  This first path would have taken us around Hod Akev rather than climb over it, but it wasn't marked shvil yisrael. We barely considered taking this easier, alternative, non shvil yisrael path, something that in our younger shvil days might have been a temptation that we may not have withstood. A few hours later we would be tempted once more, being offered a short cut to Ein Shaviv along a non shvil yisrael trail. I can remember clearly how in the past we would do whatever we could to walk downhill rather than uphill, take an easier route if it offered itself or simply cut off kilometers. Today we are not scared to tackle steep ascents up cliff faces, clamber up slippery slopes, climb ladders or huff up long uphill paths.  We've started to pace ourselves better, walk further and more easily over more difficult terrain. We're more shvil mature. After 3 years and 700km, you'd hope that we've learned more than just the advantages of taking a picnic breakfast rather than ready made sandwiches on the second day.
Eventually we got to a plateau after the long steep climb which gave us a 360 degree view of the entire area. This wasn't the pinnacle, however. Ahead of us a path led up a high, round-topped hill, which we were sure would have white, blue and orange markings leading to the top. In a rare show of mercy, Mr Shvil Painter had us continue around the base of this hill and down the other side of the plateau that we were on, rather than lead us up and down another steeper, higher slope. The walk down into Nachal Akev below was far gentler than the climb up.The surroundings were of course very pretty but what made the walking that little bit more interesting was the coloured stones we were walking over. In the machtesh hakatan we'd walked through an area of colored sand. Here we were walking over stones that were coloured black, white and red. Yoni said I was being nerdy. Could be. But I still think it was pretty.

There are spots that you get to that just scream out "you MUST stop here for a break". Lower Ein Akev is one such place. A different sort of oasis from those that we had previously stopped at, it is a natural pool fed by spring water. The air temperature was still very cool and the water even cooler. Under warmer circumstances it would make one of the most idyllic places imaginable for a dip. The sounds of the trickle of the small waterfall that fed the pool, the chirping of the birds that gathered here and the rustle of the reeds made us forget that we were in the middle of the desert.

The shvil route continued up Nachal Akev as far as Upper Ein Akev. Whilst the area around the nachal were pure desert, the walk though the creek bed was decidedly undesertlike. The water that fed the oasis below ran through this creek, making it quite marshy. We walked over mud and alongside tall reeds. A few times we had to cross from one side of the stream to another, having to do so by rock-hopping over the water and though thick stands of reeds. Upper Ein Akev had no specific spring or other definitive landmark but it was, all the same, an important place. Shvil Yisrael Split into two at this point. The old route, which is still clearly marked, led up to Avdat, which was an important Nabatean city on the ancient perfume route that went from the Arabian peninsula to the Mediterranean. From there the old shvil route  zipped down highway 40 to Mitzpeh Ramon. The newer route is longer, harder and the one we took. We would have been happy to continue walking up Nachal Akev, but as usual, Mr Shvil Painter didn't ask us what we wanted. Not too long after the split between the old and new route, Mr Shvil Painter punished us for making the mature decision and we took a sharp right hand turn out of the nachal. Sharp is the operative word here. After wandering along the gentle banks of the reedy Nachal Akev, suddenly we were climbing steeply up what can be described as a natural quarry. We were waddling up a high pile of sharp loose stones that appeared as if they'd been poured into this ravine by a divine dump truck. So after 700 km on the shvil, we were still seeing things for the first time...a desert pool, a reedy creek and now climbing a natural rock slag. We had a few more firsts still to come.

If it wasn't bad enough that we'd been drawn out of the lovely Nachal Akev and forced to climb the rock heap, once we got to the top we were faced with crossing Israel's equivalent of the Tibetan plateau. A cold wind blew across the stark, grey plain. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of the pebbles underfoot. As if we hadn't had enough climbing today, we were crossing this wasteland on a long steady uphill. The climb gradually steepened until suddenly we came upon a lip, or more correctly, a precipice. Quite unexpectedly we were sitting down, having a drink of water, dangling our legs over a sheer drop of what seemed like a couple of hundred metres, overlooking the expanse of the Zin valley from a different perspective to what we'd seen earlier. We could also see, as we had seen throughout the day, the white blimp in the distance that has been following us since we first got to the area around the Machtesh Hakatan and Dimona. Yoni's theory, put forward in the previous chapter, that this whole shvil business is a hoax, seems to  be getting more credible as we progress. Once again, yesterday not another living sole and likewise today. And the director in the command blimp is still calling the shots.

As usual, what goes up must come down and in this case, we had to continue along a narrow path across the cliff face, down towards Ein Shaviv. A cautious herd of wild ibex examined us from a distance before prancing off with a lot more grace than what we were exhibiting, trying to get across in one piece. It didn't take us too long to get down to Ein Shaviv, which is another oasis. Here there was no water in sight, but a large swath of forest, plonked down here in the desert, totally out of keeping with the surrounds. There were some eucalypts, palms, poplars and wattle, resembling places that we'd seen far to the north. Another charming little spot.

We'd been on the trail a while and had another 4 km or so to walk. The guide book stated that we had a gentle to moderate climb to get to the "oil route", a dirt track that travels adjacent to the pipe that transfers oil from Eilat to the port of Ashdod and our finishing point for the day. No problem. How many times have I said that and how many times has it proven to be, how should I put it...inexact? If the slope that we climbed after Ein Shaviv is a gentle moderate incline, then I'm a Shaolin monk. Once again we found ourselves clawing up over boulders and doing trapeze acts along narrow paths, all the while admiring the amazing views.
There's a lesson to be learned here. Ignore the books. Yoni and I are almost obsessed with reading the books, knowing where we are, what lies ahead and how far till we finish. Garry's attitude is much more straight forward. Get on to the shvil, walk it, finish. Knowing where you are or what's coming next doesn't help. Once you start you have no choice but to finish. I think I'm going to adopt his approach. The book stays in the bag next time.
The unexpected climb eventually evened out, not before we passed through even more dramatic scenery. Don't expect any photos. You'll have to believe me that we crossed cliffs and walked above valleys. My camera went on strike. Pity.
The path from the high point where we finished climbing to the oil route transversed along a high ridge. The track was narrow and threaded along the escarpment. We really did have to walk quite carefully and try not to look down. One slip and.....
By the time the ridge came out to the oil route road, we were starting to feel quite tired. We were half an hour later than the time we had arranged to meet Sammi the Bedouin and were sure that meant a little early by Sammi's time. Yet we had a strange unexplained feeling that Sammi had "misunderstood" us and was waiting back at Ein Shaviv, even though both Yoni and I had separately explained to him exactly where we wanted him to meet us. And sure enough, as soon as one of our phones found enough range to make a call, Sammi informed us that he was indeed at Ein Shaviv and that he had no intention of driving around and up to where we were. So there it was, having walked 17 hard km and with the car where we weren't. Garry commented that this was proof of Shvil-God retribution for all those sections that we'd reversed, cut, skipped, driven or cheated. Now that we no longer commit  those shvil sins, it's come back to bite us on the bum. Yoni theorized that it was a scripted set-up, put together by the director of the shvil show in a cheap attempt to bolster ratings. I was just pissed off. Sammi had us by the sensitive parts, and he knew it. Yoni's negotiation skills were to no avail. This was a right logistic balls-up. Sammi contritely said that we had to take a very steep path down to where he was and that was it. Sometimes you just have to know when your beaten. Actually, the half hour walk down was steep and we would rather not have had to do it, but under the circumstances, it wasn't too bad. Maybe, by the time we get to Eilat, we might be able to look back and laugh at the episode. Then again, maybe not. By the time we got grumpily into Sammi's Jeep we'd done a full circle in the mountains around Ein Shaviv. And we can't even blame Mr Shvil Painter or the Shvil Elders. In fact, Mr Shvil painter had been very diligent over these past two days. There had been lots of freshly painted, bright shvil markings. We didn't get nearly lost even once.

We had hoped that Sammi the Bedouin and his 4*4 desert taxi service might prove to be the answer for the logistical challenges that lay ahead, but it appears that we're going to have to look elsewhere. Oh well.
On the long drive back home, Yoni and I spoke about the many shvil experiences and fantastic walks we've had over these past three years. Today's adventure was both a fantastic walk and a shvil experience to remember.

44th day (Mysterious Messages in the Desert)

You have days like this. Short, nothing legs that link one interesting place to another. It would have been just as good if Captain Kirk had spoken into his wrist and said "beam me 13 km along the shvil, Scotty". But this would not do for the shvil elders, so we found ourselves looking north from the Akev campground, heading to the Nachal Mador campground, through the Zin valley, or as the Bible calls it, the Zin wilderness. This area is so out of the way that biblical scholars are not even certain that this particular valley is actually the Zin wilderness. Wikipedia gives it 2 lines and a photo. We gave it 4 hours, which is 4 hours more than anybody else gave it today. Once again, no shvillers, no hikers, no nothing. Are we that obnoxious that a nationwide warning goes out before we hit the trail? Anyway, I don't wish to be misunderstood here. An easy walk through the desert on a pleasant winter's day with 3 old school friends beats most other activities that I can think of, especially work. 

The Zin valley is a very wide plain surrounded by high jutting hills. It's pretty enough, certainly not ugly, but after the past few sections that we'd done, which have all been spectacular, there was no "wow" factor. The only thing of note on today's walk was entirely man made. A couple of hours after setting off we came upon a spot where hundreds of little messages had been spelled out using small brown stones. Some were in English, some Hebrew and a few in an unrecognized language which I suspect as Portuguese. There was the usual "Dianne 4 Fredricco" and "Maccabi Haifa Champions". There was a message concerning Hanukkah 2010 and one angry stone setter had even left "Fuck Ivan" for posterity. There were stones that had been arranged into dates, but not all the dates were the same. I guess as others have passed by they've added their own little submission to the field of rocks. The net result is quite a strange, impressive and surprising site that may keep extra-terrestrials that land here guessing as to its meaning.

Other than that, a few ups and downs, a few nice rock formations and we arrived at the designated meeting point, where Sammy our Bedouin 4*4 taxi driver had agreed to meet us. We learnt from our previous leg that an agreed hour is at best a recommendation for Sammy the  Beduoin, who has a different view of time to us living in the modern western world. I had spoken to him on the previous day and he had agreed to pick us up and seemed to understand where we wanted that to be, but when I had tried to confirm the pick-up, his cell phone had been turned off all day. Of course it is logical that he was somewhere in the desert, out of cell range, but I would have been calmer had I been able to speak to him during the day. As it turned out, we got in contact with him just as we arrived to the Nachal Mador camp ground and 15 minutes later he was there.

Yoni's car was parked about 15 minutes away from Midreshet Ben Gurion, where we were staying the night. He likes to get out and about with us, otherwise that little 4*4 knob on the dashboard would sit there, neglected and rusted from lack of use. But here, in the middle of the rough dirt tracks leading to the outback, was a 300 metre length of bitumen. It occurred to us that were driving along David Ben Gurion's personal airstrip. He lived at Sdeh Boker, which is adjacent to the Midrasha that has taken his name. It was obviously built so he could travel to Jerusalem when he was Prime Minister back in the 40's, 50's and 60's.Ben-Gurion's airstrip

 Midreshet Ben-Gurion is a small community settlement of 900 people. If we wanted to eat there, the choice was Domino's Pizza or the dining room of the field school where we were staying. Neither seemed particularly appetizing, so Yerucham, where we stayed last time, which was 15 minutes away,  seemed liked the best choice. The Abu Yerucham oriental restaurant there seemed a much better deal. The highlight of the evening, however, was the grand opening of the pub back at Midreshet Ben Gurion. When you know that your client base is going to be around 300 adults, you're not going to be spending a fortune in getting the place going. With furnishing and decor that may be best described as op-shop chic, and clientele that looked as if they'd just gotten out of a time capsule from Woodstock, It didn't look too promising. When Yoni and Garry asked for something as complicated as red wine and the boss had to send his son to the general store that was about to close to get a bottle, it was starting to look like a disaster. But as more people floated in the atmosphere warmed up and you certainly could mark it up as another shvil experience.
Back in the luxury of our youth hostel room, the vodka nightcap that has become a regularity sent us off to dreamland.